Such Evil Ways
by DragonCastle
Summary: What is evil? Is it evil to kill, to maim, to abuse, to swindle, in order to save your family? How far is too far in saving the ones you love? When Draco Malfoy finds himself on a mission concerning Hermione Granger, the lines separating good and evil are blurred.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Well, after a few years, I'm trying my hand at writing (AND HOPEFULLY FINISHING) a novel-length fic. I still totally regret what happened to CC Forgotten, but that's another story :) However, I'm more attached to the Potter fandom than I am to any other fandom so hopefully, I will have enough willpower to push through with this one._

_Chapter 1:_

Lucius Malfoy was enraged. He gripped the handle of his cane tightly, his knuckles turning white and deep inside he was screaming curses, both profanities and magical ones. Yet, his face was still a calm and collected mask betraying none of his emotions.

His wife, Narcissa Malfoy, on the other hand wore an expression of unadulterated shock.

The Dark Lord was inside their foyer, sitting on an antique couch, his long pale fingers crossed together as he watched the middle-aged couple in front of him. He was rather delighted with their reaction. After all, Lucius Malfoy botched up his previous mission at the Department of Mysteries and this new mission he gave them was the Malfoys' punishment.

Failure on this mission will cause them death.

Success would cause the end of their pure lineage. The lineage Lucius was so proud of.

Nothing could bring them any lower.

"My lord," Lucius said rather calmly, "forgive my forwardness, but my wife and I fail to see the importance of this mission to our cause."

Voldemort hissed, his eyes leveling a glare to Lucius, causing the other man to look away properly chastised. "Are you questioning my leadership now, Lucius?"

"Of course not, my lord." Lucius quickly remedied.

Voldemort nodded, then faced Narcissa. "Bring in your son now, Narcissa. I wish to speak to him."

Narcissa opened her mouth as if to speak, then on better judgment, closed it again and quickly exited the room leaving her husband and master alone. Quietly, she ascended the Manor stairs to her son's room, despairing over the recent turn of events.

For her son to touch a _mudblood_. Narcissa shuddered. Oh, what would the ancestors say? To sully the Malfoy name. How repulsive. Abraxas was most probably turning on his grave.

Draco was sprawled on his bed, gazing at his left forearm, the Dark Mark adorning his pale skin. Her son was branded only the previous week and he flaunted it in their circles like he did with his first broomstick at age ten. To say that Draco was happy about his mark was an understatement. He wanted this, this chance at glory, this chance to impress his father, and more than once, Narcissa wondered if Draco would have truly chosen this path if not for his intense desire to be praised by Lucius.

"Mother?" He said, looking at the woman standing in his doorway.

"The Dark Lord has asked me to summon you, Draco. He wishes to speak to you."

Draco's eyes lit up with glee. This was it. He felt it in his bones. His moment of glory, the moment he had been waiting for, has finally come. He would redeem his family from the Dark Lord's graces and finally make his father proud.

"Do not look so happy, Draco!" Narcissa snapped, "this is no joke. I'd like to remind you that you were branded because of your father's mistakes. You were accepted in the inner circle not because you were qualified, but because they were hoping you're not. They want you dead, Draco. They want us dead."

The younger Malfoy's face did not change. "I know, Mother. But I will prove you wrong. I am qualified. I am ready for this. I want to serve the Dark Lord and redeem our family in the process." He clasped his mother's hands tightly. Narcissa looked at her tiny hands engulfed in her son's much larger ones and was once again reminded that her boy was turning into a man. "Trust me, Mother."

Narcissa allowed herself a smile. Draco is more man than child now, and if he says he can do it, who is Narcissa to say he will fail? And if ever he doesn't, she would be there to protect him. Come hell or high water, no one – _no one –_ will hurt her son.

When Draco entered the foyer, Lucius was no longer there. Seated alone in the room was the Dark Lord. He gave Draco a warped version of what must be a smile that made the younger boy's hairs stand to its ends.

"My lord," Draco greeted with a bow. Voldemort motioned for him to sit on the couch his parents had vacated and once the boy sat, Voldemort waved his hands and a silvery-gray bubble enveloped the whole foyer.

"I like mission briefings to be private." Lord Voldemort stated.

"Of course, my lord."

"You have received the Dark Mark last week, administered by Bellatrix Lestrange with your parents as witnesses, am I right, boy?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And you are to resume your schooling at Hogwarts as a sixth year student in two weeks time?"

Draco nodded.

"Answer me when spoken to." Lord Voldemort hissed, his snake-like eyes narrowing.

"I beg your forgiveness, my lord. Yes, I am going to be a sixth year at Hogwarts this coming term."

"Perfect. I'm sure you are aware of the existence of a certain Harry Potter." Draco nodded to show he was listening. "And his two cronies. The blood traitor and the mudblood."

"What I ask of you, Draco Malfoy," the Dark Lord continued, "is rather simple. I want you to conceive a child with Hermione Granger. I want the child that the two of you will yield and you will give this child to me, healthy and strong."

Draco's face mirrored his mother's when presented with this news a few moments ago.

"Your appearance is Lucius' yet your bearing is Narcissa's." The Dark Lord observed. "Do not worry, Draco, I do not do this simply to spite your family."

Draco seriously doubted that but good judgment told him to keep quiet. The Dark Lord wished him to have a child? _With the mudblood!_

Draco cleared his throat. "May I know the reason for this mission, my Lord?"

"I admonished your father for asking the same question. I will not do the same with you as you are directly involved. And I want you to know. I feel like I can trust you, Draco. You are not an incompetent buffoon like your father." The Dark Lord said silkily. The Dark Lord was luring him, trying to get a firmer hold on the new recruit and if this whole debacle happened before he learned that the Dark Lord was out for their skins, Draco would be jumping for joy by now. "However, the time for stories and explanations has not yet come. Do you accept your mission, Draco?"

It was a rhetorical question. Rejection of a mission from the Dark Lord means immediate death.

With his next three words, Draco Malfoy had signed the death warrant of the pure Malfoy lineage.

"Yes, my lord."


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2:_

If one thing can be said about Slytherins, it's that they are a cunning lot. This usually gives them a bad reputation, but on the other hand, this trait gives them the power to achieve their ends.

Draco Malfoy knew that his task was not a walk in the park. As of the moment, Hermione Granger would rather sleep with an acromantula than him. Furthermore, Draco would rather sleep with an acromantula than the mudblood. Yes, Draco needs time. Time to prepare himself and time to prepare Granger.

Draco thought of administering Amortentia to Granger, but then what if she doesn't want to keep the child when the Amortentia wears off? Potter and Weasley were sure to notice something amiss if Granger acted all lovey-dovey around him so he couldn't administer Amortentia regularly for nine months just to make sure she delivers the baby.

An Imperius Curse was out of question. She was too strong-willed.

He also briefly considered kidnapping her and keeping her in the manor for nine months, but a missing Hermione Granger was too much. She's too valuable to the Order and a big search and rescue mission would be employed immediately upon her disappearance. And when they discover who's keeping her, well, let's just say that the only thing that would keep Draco out of Azkaban is being a minor.

Draco needed her willing. And based from what he knew about Granger, the only way for her to be willing is for her to be in love with him. She was probably that sort of girl.

Making Granger fall in love with him overnight, however, was as improbable as Voldemort declaring his love for bunnies and all things pink and fluffy. The answer came to him in the form of an off-handed comment made by Lucius the morning after Draco learned of his new project. Breakfasts together at the Malfoy Manor used to be a regular affair but as the Dark Lord slowly rose to power again, Lucius found that his presence became more and more necessary. However, with the sudden plummet out of the Dark Lord's graces, Lucius was free to have meals regularly with his family again.

The Daily Prophet was opened in front of Lucius, his eyes moving as if reading, but his body language dictated otherwise. He was tense and worried, more for his son than his current position in the Death Eater pecking order. After another unsuccessful attempt at reading an article about the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, Lucius finally voiced out his concerns.

"Have you begun to think of ways to woo the mudblood, Draco?"

Narcissa frowned. "Such foul language at breakfast is terrible, Lucius. Kindly leave the less savory topics for when we're not eating."

"It is bound to happen sooner or later, Narcissa. The mudblood will carry Draco's child and it would do us no good if we don't start getting used to it now." Lucius said with a shudder.

"You seem very accepting of this, Father." Draco commented. "I imagined you would be a sputtering, red-faced mess at the thought." Which was definitely not true. Lucius Malfoy is nothing if not cool and calculating and his son knew this.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I do enjoy breathing, Draco. Which brings me back to the subject at hand. Do you have plans on keeping our family alive?"

"I was toying with the idea of using Amortentia last night. I could probably have a cauldron of it ready in a month."

"Wouldn't a love potion cause a highly uncharacteristic change in the Granger girl? This could put a damper in your plans and cause more harm than good, Draco. Maybe it would be better to court her in the traditional way." Narcissa voiced out.

"Do you honestly think that Hermione Granger, mudblood extraordinaire, friend of _The Boy Who Lived_," Lucius said with a sneer at Harry's title, "would suddenly abandon her preconceived notions and prostate herself at Draco's feet? You'd have better luck infiltrating the Order of the Phoenix."

Two weeks after that conversation, Draco Malfoy found himself in Albus Dumbledore's study, pleading for help.

"You were sent on a mission…to kill me?" Dumbledore asked, disbelief rather evident on his eyes.

Draco nodded.

"I'm glad you told me this, Draco, but I can't even begin to imagine why Lord Voldemort would send you of all people to kill me. You are only sixteen. Surely, he doesn't expect you to succeed."

"He sent me on a mission to punish my father. The mission was designed for me to fail." Draco replied. He loved telling half-truths. They were much more believable than full out lies and much harder to distinguish as false even through Legilimency.

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Why do you tell me this, Draco? Do you wish for your family to be under the Order's protection?"

"I want my family to be safe." And this was no half-truth but rather a truth pure and simple.

"I've always held out hope for you Draco," Dumbledore said, clapping his shoulder, "even after you received your Mark."

Draco didn't know what to say. The approval in Dumbledore's voice was too palpable, it made him feel uneasy. Dumbledore doesn't approve Malfoys. He approves Potters and Weasleys and Grangers and those brave and heroic Gryffindor types.

"Right." He said after a long pause. "So, what would you have me do? Do you want me to give you intelligence reports?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "This might jeopardize your precarious condition even further, Draco. No. I want you to lay low, and proceed as if you're doing your mission. The Order will protect you."

This wasn't going according to Draco's plans at all. He needed to look heroic, to seem important so Granger could see him in better light. He shouldn't be a little boy caught up in the war, being protected by her side. He should be a warrior. But Dumbledore didn't trust him. Not enough to enlist him as a spy. Draco racked his brains for something he was good at. Something that he could offer.

"I'm good at potions." He blurted out. He inwardly cursed at the seemingly desperate way he said it. "I mean, I'm pretty handy at healing potions and the like. Some are even traditional Malfoy recipes. I could make potions for the Order."

Dumbledore raised a brow. "We already have good potioneers, Draco."

"But they don't know a lot of Malfoy originals that are twice, even thrice, as effective as the common ones." Draco stopped and put on his sincerest face. "I don't want to be a dead weight, professor. I want to pay for the protection my family will receive."

Dumbledore smiled and Draco felt like he passed some sort of test. "Potions it is, then."


End file.
